


Warehouse Corners

by alderations



Series: Peapod McHanzo Week [5]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Missions Gone Wrong, Peapod McHanzo Week, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 13:35:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13295976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alderations/pseuds/alderations
Summary: Hanzo searches each tiny room with his heart in his throat, finding nothing but more unrecognizable bodies, and then, finally, a shimmer of brass.Jesse calls for backup, and Hanzo offers that and more.





	Warehouse Corners

It’s been three hours since Jesse called for backup. The air in the transport is thick with tension, Angela and Genji both silent as stone, and Hanzo has been fighting to keep his hands from shaking since they boarded.

 

Supposedly, Jesse is halfway through a solo, extremely low-profile mission to extract data concerning weapons trafficking, but his distress signal indicates that he is anything but  _ low-profile  _ at the moment. Thus the three of them, with Lena piloting the carrier, flying toward a warehouse somewhere in Egypt, so top-secret that Hanzo doesn’t even know the name of the city. Even if he did, he would only care about finding, extracting,  _ protecting  _ Jesse. He grits his teeth with resolve as his right hand strays automatically to his engagement ring—the kind that spins around itself, since Jesse knew he’d love something to occupy his hands, regardless of the ring’s intention. Because Jesse knew him. His mind won’t let him forget that Jesse is in danger, practically chanting it over and over, even while Genji reaches over to squeeze his shoulder and pull him a few inches closer.

 

The transport touches down and the door opens to brilliant sunlight, shimmering golden-orange off of the neverending sand. It takes Hanzo a moment to realize that the warehouse is behind them, not somehow hidden under the rolling dunes, and then he takes off for the first climbable wall within his line of sight. They went over the plan before getting into the transport; he doesn’t need to wait around to hear Mercy rehash the danger his fiancé is in. Once he reaches a window two stories up, Hanzo slips into the building and lets his eyesight adjust to the dimness as he takes stock of his surroundings.

 

First, and most concerning, is the utter silence inside the warehouse. If Jesse were still battling his unexpected opponents, the whole building would ring with gunshots and, most likely, his rumbling voice. Hanzo would usually take his time, check for cameras and traps and agents ready to sneak up on him, but he is willing to be a reckless asshole if it gets him to Jesse sooner. He makes his way out of the room and onto a balcony ringing the main floor of the warehouse, from where he can see Genji and Mercy burst into the building with their usual flare.

 

Apparently, Hanzo entered undetected, but they do not. Gunfire opens up, and Mercy moves seamlessly into place behind Genji’s flashing  _ wakizashi. _ Hanzo picks off a number of enemies before moving on along the balcony, toward the far side of the building, since it seems like it’ll take a while for his teammates to cut their way through the opposition. He has yet to find a single trace of McCree, which is a good sign at this rate; he’d rather find nothing than, say, bloodstains. Then he spots a single downed enemy, and another, and soon Hanzo wonders what the  _ fuck  _ happened here—enemy agents still ready to fight, but half their number depleted, and Jesse nowhere to be seen.

 

He reaches the end of the balcony and practically slides down to the main floor. This part of the warehouse is neatly sectioned off into roomlike spaces by massive piles of crates, likely all full of contraband weaponry. For a few minutes, Hanzo searches each tiny room with his heart in his throat, finding nothing but more unrecognizable bodies, and then, finally, a shimmer of brass.

 

It’s one of the bullet casings on Jesse’s hat, which rests haphazardly on the floor in a dark corner. There, his fingers barely touching the hat’s brim, Jesse slumps into the shadows, completely still and silent. Hanzo nearly blanches. He can’t risk shouting and giving away his presence, but he also can’t stop himself from calling Jesse’s name over and over again as he reaches the man and kneels in front of him.

 

His fingers go to Jesse’s throat first, finding a healthy pulse and airflow, and then he feels around the edges of Jesse’s chestplate for any obvious wounds. There’s no blood, nothing broken, but Jesse’s eyes are empty and his face is screwed up with pain, and Hanzo is starting to shake so hard that he can barely focus on checking him over. Finally, he gives up on his physical examination and takes Jesse’s face in his hands, as his instincts dictate. “McCree,” he murmurs, still keeping his voice down. “Are you with me?”

 

Jesse’s eyes flash, but he doesn’t try to speak, only reaches for Hanzo with clumsy arms and ends up smacking him across the chest. His lips are pale and trembling. Hanzo starts to wonder if he’s been poisoned or drugged, but then he sees—there are tears in Jesse’s eyes. He looks terrified. Something else is wrong.

 

“Run,” Jesse yelps, and despite the horror in his voice Hanzo is simply glad to hear him speak. “Run, get out of— _ fuck— _ it’s not safe, it’s—”

 

Pausing for a moment, Hanzo takes stock of the warehouse and realizes that he can hear Genji’s voice echoing from not too far away, calm and almost conversational. “We have taken care of the enemy agents, McCree. We came to help you.”

 

Jesse shakes his head adamantly. “Th-the—it’s—the feds or somethin’, fuckin’—Overwatch, get outta—”

 

“Overwatch?” Hanzo frowns. “Jesse. You are Overwatch. You are safe.”

 

He watches confusion and terror swim back and forth through Jesse’s eyes for a long moment, all the while stroking his beard, his hair, his shoulders, and then that warm-coffee gaze solidifies onto him. Not entirely lucid, but it’s Jesse, and he’s alright. “Han… Hanzo?”

 

“It is me,” Hanzo reassures him. He has never seen Jesse look so haunted.

 

“Where—did I finish the mission? What the fuck is goin’ on?”

 

Hanzo frowns, leaning backward so that he can help Jesse sit upright. “You sent a distress signal. Genji, Mercy, and I came to retrieve you, and found the warehouse half-full of bodies. I have no idea what happened here, other than that you appear to be safe.”

 

It takes a long minute for Jesse to apparently work through his confusion, and when he does, he nearly slumps forward into Hanzo’s chest.  _ “Shit,  _ Hanzo, I didn’t… I didn’t think that would happen.”

 

“What would happen?”

 

“The warehouse.” Jesse clears his throat, stares down into his lap. “When Blackwatch found me, back when I was a fuckin’ kid, it was a warehouse out in the desert. Like this. An’ they took out a bunch o’ the other Deadlocks an’ I thought they were gonna get me, too, and then Reyes cornered me and… that was it. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve lived through it again since then.”

 

Light metal footsteps precede Genji’s arrival, Angela floating only a few feet behind him, but they don’t interrupt the conversation. “A flashback, then?”

 

“Yeah. I just… ain’t had one so bad in a real long time.”

 

As Hanzo continues to grip Jesse’s shoulders, doing his best to ground him, Angela approaches and directs her Caduceus staff at Jesse, to soothe him if nothing else. “How come half the enemy agents were dead, and the others were still defending the warehouse? Why did they leave you alone?” prompts Hanzo.

 

Jesse snorts. “‘S ‘cause I’m real good at playin’ dead, sugar.”

 

His eyes are still damp, his skin clammy, and Hanzo nearly sobs when he yanks Jesse into his arms and buries his face in the cowboy’s neck. “I am so sorry that this happened, Jess.”

 

“I can’t see from here,” Genji interjects, “but if you’re hurt, Jesse, I’m going to kick your ass. Don’t scare my brother like that.”

 

“Oh, hush,” Jesse counters. At least his humor is returning to some extent. To Hanzo, he tips his head sideways so that he can kiss his fiancé’s chin and nuzzle into his neck. “I think,” he starts, and then he has to stop to take a long, tremulous breath. “I think it’s about time I retired, Hanzo.”

 

Angela goes rigid next to them, perhaps from shock, and Hanzo hears the mechanical whir of Genji inhaling behind him. Not a single person on their team is more dedicated to their vigilante lifestyle than Jesse; they all assumed the cowboy would fight until he died. Absently, Hanzo spins the ring on his left hand with his thumb, and he can feel Jesse’s tiny chuckle at the way the movement makes Hanzo’s fingers thump against his back. “I think you may be right.”

 

“Move out to the country? Rustle some goats?”

 

“Goats, yes. Rustling, no.”

 

Jesse sighs, like years of tension are leaving his shoulders, like Hanzo’s touch could cure every ailment he ever had. “As long as you’re with me.”

**Author's Note:**

> back to Continuity and Flow WHOMST???? aka my normal state of being.
> 
> I spent about 3 hours grocery shopping and cooking today, plus appeasing my stress-ridden parents, so I didn't have much time to even think about what I wanted to do. I just wanted to vent about flashbacks, mostly. I've only had a few, but I've never had someone to help me through them and they fucking suck, so... sorry, Jesse. (that's like the theme of my fics tbh)
> 
> 2 more days! Hopefully I'll be calmer and well-rested tomorrow! Thank you all for your lovely comments and support!!!


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